


Day Job

by carolinecrane



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-17
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cupid has a job for Strife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Job

Strife woke to the feeling of something soft tickling his nose. And that was annoying - more annoying than when Ares woke him up by throwing a fireball at the wall over his head, even. At least that he was used to, but this...he blinked a few times, squinting up at a blur of white that looked entirely out of place in his mostly black bedroom.

"Wake up." The tickling was back again, and Strife scowled and reached up to scratch his nose. "Come on, I haven't got all millennium."

That voice - he knew that voice. He knew that voice well enough to force himself awake, scrambling backwards on the bed with as much grace as the sudden, crippling fear would allow. "What are you doing here? If Unc catches you..."

"First of all, he's off overseeing some war in Thebes or someplace. And secondly, my business is with you, not him."

"Me?" Strife was tempted to look around just to make sure there was no one else it the room, but those dark eyes were trained pretty much directly on him. "Listen, bird-brain, I don't know what's got your feathers all ruffled..."

"I think Psyche's cheating on me." Cupid's voice went flat at the mention of his wife, and Strife's heart began to pound a little harder in spite of his resolve not to let the older god scare him. He was House of War, after all, he should be able to take on one measly love god. Only there was nothing measly about Cupid, and anyway Strife had seen him when he was in one of his jealous rages.

"I never touched her."

"I know that," Cupid said, rolling his eyes in a way that Strife was sure he should find offensive. "What I need is for you to stir up a little trouble for her, mess with her enough so she'll slip up. Then I can catch her in the act."

It sounded like a reasonable enough plan; making Psyche betray herself was definitely a good idea, and Strife had never been one to pass up a chance to make a little mischief. Still, the idea of helping Cupid out...he took one look at the bronze, well-muscled chest and the expanse of wings and knew this was a bad idea. He couldn't be around Cupid even for a few minutes without his mind wandering to all sorts of bad places, places no War god had any business wandering. And now that he'd felt Cupid's feathers against his skin - okay, his nose - and knew how soft they really were...yeah, this was definitely a bad idea.

"Listen, Cupe, I'd love to help you out, but I've gotta get going. Unc's expecting me, the big guy can't do anything without me. You know how it is, War god business and all. So I'll just see you around, okay?"

He made it as far as the end of the bed before he felt strong hands on his shoulders, and before he had a chance to react his feet were off the floor and he felt a strong gust of wind just before his back collided with the wall. A second later he found himself blinking at Cupid again, just as stupidly and this time from much closer up. And this was definitely bad, because he couldn't fight when he was dangling in midair, Cupid's grip the only thing keeping him from falling. Cupid's amazingly strong grip, and as soon as that registered he couldn't help thinking about those hands on other parts of his body.

The fact that Cupid was barely moving his wings in order to keep them in the air was even hotter than the way Cupid was staring at him, and it really wasn't Strife's fault when his cock decided to show an interest in what was happening. He couldn't be expected to control himself when Cupid had him pinned ten feet above the ground, could he? But if Cupid noticed how much certain parts of him were enjoying this things could get embarrassing very quickly, so he did the only thing he could do; he caved.

"Okay, okay, why didn't you just say it meant that much to you? Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll try and work it into my schedule."

"You don't get it," Cupid said, his voice deceptively calm now. The sound went straight to Strife's groin and it was all he could do to bite back a groan, determined not to humiliate himself in front of his cousin. "You're mine."

"W-what?" And that was great, because nothing said 'I'm cool' like his voice cracking on a one-syllable word.

"I talked to Dad. He said I can borrow you for as long as I want, just as long as I keep you out of his hair until after his war's over. So you're mine, whether you like it or not."

He'd expected Ares to sell him out the first chance he got, but it still hurt a little to know his uncle considered him expendable enough to hire him out to the House of Love. And if he was going to sell Strife out he could have at least picked a god that Strife didn't have a hopeless, unrequited crush on; then again, if Ares or anybody else found out about his crush on Cupid, Strife would never be able to show his face on Olympus again. So he'd just have to get through this and hope that whatever Cupid wanted him to do wouldn't take too long; he just wished the other god would put him down.

"Okay, I get it. I'm all yours. Now would you put me down already?"

Cupid grinned at him and his cock instantly went straight past interested and right to 'ready for action'. He groaned inwardly and tried to shift away from the other god, but it was more than a little difficult considering Cupid was the only thing keeping him from falling.

"What's the matter, you afraid of heights?"

"'Fraid of falling, more like," Strife answered, figuring a little honesty was his best chance of getting out of this with his dignity intact. "Come on, Cupe, I said I'd do it, what more do you want?"

He knew it was the wrong question to ask the minute he said it, because Cupid's grin shifted and suddenly the other god was even closer, their bodies pressing together through two layers of leather. This time he didn't quite manage to stifle the groan, but he knew it didn't matter because there was no way Cupid had missed the erection digging into his thigh. "Don't worry," Cupid said, his breath warm on Strife's cheek, "I won't drop you. Funny, though. I always thought you'd be into pain."

"Other people's, yeah," Strife answered distractedly. "Mine, not so much."

It took him a few seconds to realize what exactly Cupid had said, but as soon as the words sank in he forgot to worry about the fact that he was still suspended in midair. Cupid had said _I always thought_ \-- not 'it seems like' or even 'aren't war gods supposed to be'. He'd said that he thought about this - that he'd thought about _Strife_. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Before he could figure out what exactly it meant Cupid was shifting against him again, and a low, choked moan escaped Strife's throat before he could stop it. He glanced up sharply to find Cupid still grinning at him, but this time the other god's expression wasn't malicious so much as...interested? "Seems like part of you isn't too worried about falling."

He couldn't really deny that, not when the evidence was pressed against Cupid's leg. This was the last thing he'd wanted, because now Cupid had something to hold over him. Now that he knew that Strife wanted him he'd find a way to use it, and there was nothing Strife could do about it. Well, he could kill Cupid and rid himself of the problem, but that would involve an awful lot of careful planning and by then the damage would already be done. No, he'd have to go with denial and hope it confused Cupid enough to get him out of this. He was just a love god, after all; it wasn't like brains exactly ran in his side of the family.

"Look, Feathers, I don't know what you're..."

"Strife, shut up," Cupid interrupted, pressing one perfect finger to Strife's lips to silence him. A moment later he pulled his finger away only to replace it with his mouth, and all Strife could do was wrap his arms around Cupid's neck and hold on. He should have known that Cupid's kisses would be mind-blowing - he was gorgeous, for one, and then there was the whole love god thing - but he never could have been prepared for this. He felt like he was floating, wrapped in soft heat that started at his mouth and spread out through the rest of his body. Cupid's mouth was hot and hard and playful all at once, almost like he knew exactly what Strife would like best before he ever kissed him.

It took Strife a minute to realize that his back wasn't pressed up against stone anymore, and when he realized he was lying on something soft he opened his eyes long enough to register that Cupid had lowered them to the bed again. He'd never even felt them move, but he couldn't make himself care when Cupid was nipping at his jaw, his fingers expertly working open the buckles on Strife's shirt.

"Cupe...what...what about Psyche?" Strife managed to gasp; as soon as he realized what he'd said he could have killed himself, but Cupid didn't even miss a beat as he tugged Strife's shirt off and tossed it aside.

"Later," the older god growled against his neck, and Strife couldn't really think of a decent argument for that, so he shut his mouth and focused on the fact that Cupid was kissing his neck. Cupid. Was kissing _his_ neck, as though that made any sense at all. And it wasn't just kisses - they were soft and sweet and almost tender, as though Cupid actually cared whether or not Strife was enjoying himself. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined something like this - he'd always suspected that Morpheus didn't really like him much - but it was happening, and he definitely wasn't going to say anything else that might make Cupid stop.

The leather melted away from both their bodies as Cupid's hands passed over it, and Strife shivered in anticipation of the first touch of skin on skin. This part he had imagined, but there was no way he ever could have known how good it would really feel. The fact that Cupid was born to this probably helped, but that couldn't explain the way he seemed to know every sensitive spot on Strife's body, or the almost needy whimper he let out when Strife slid his hands across Cupid's back to stroke his wings.

And oh, he'd wanted to touch those wings. He'd wanted to for as long as he could remember, even when he was just a godling. It didn't take him long to realize how sensitive they were, though, especially at the juncture where wings met a perfect golden back. Strife ran his hands experimentally across the joint, smiling when Cupid gasped and bucked hard against him. The love god had been mapping a leisurely trail across Strife's chest with his tongue, but as soon as Strife touched his wings again he pushed himself up to stare down at the other god.

Neither of them said anything, but Strife could tell what Cupid was asking without having to hear the words. He nodded once and a moment later he felt something warm and slick coating the entrance to his body, then his legs were being nudged a little less than gently apart. Cupid grabbed his legs and wrapped them around his own waist, lifting Strife's hips off the bed to line himself up. He pushed in slowly, setting an agonizing pace when all Strife really wanted was for the other god to slam into him and fuck him as hard as he could. Cupid seemed determined to take his time, though, and there wasn't much Strife could do about it except go along for the ride.

He reached up when Cupid was finally buried completely inside him, one hand on Cupid's hip and the other stroking slowly up and down his back. Every time he reached the juncture of Cupid's wings he let his fingers brush through soft feathers, smiling at the breathy gasp that escaped the other god every time. He never thought he'd have the power to make Cupid feel like this; he was Passion, after all, and Strife was...well, Strife. He wasn't even an important god, not in the grand scheme of things. Sure, he talked big about becoming a major god one day, but the truth was that strife wasn't exactly a big commodity on Olympus. He was lucky that Ares seemed to find him useful enough to keep around, otherwise nobody would know who he was.

Right now, though...right now he felt more than important; at the moment he felt like he could do anything, even take on the Titans themselves. He couldn't believe he was the one making Cupid pant and thrust a little more wildly with each stroke of long fingers against his wings, but there was no denying that it was happening. With each stroke Strife thrust up to meet Cupid, his hands shaking just a little every time Cupid's cock brushed his prostate. His own cock lay neglected between them, but Strife didn't dare touch himself for fear that he'd lose control and end things before either of them were ready.

A moment later he found himself wondering if Cupid could read his mind, because the other god reached between them and wrapped a perfect hand around Strife's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. It was hard to believe he could keep such perfect rhythm, but Strife knew he'd probably had a lot of practice. Besides, he'd already learned one trick that he had a feeling would throw Cupid off at least a little. He let go of Cupid's hip and slid both arms around the older god's back, burying his hands in soft white feathers. He dragged his fingers across Cupid's wings carefully, making sure not to bend any of the love god's feathers in the process. When he reached the edge of Cupid's wings he splayed his fingers further apart and stroked as far down as he could reach, then he slid his hands up Cupid's back to tease the juncture of wing and back.

Just as he suspected, as soon as he touched Cupid's wings the other god bucked even harder against him, nearly lifting Strife off the mattress with the force of his thrust. He grew a little wilder with each pass of Strife's hands, until Strife wasn't entirely sure whether or not they were still on the mattress at all. Cupid's wings flexed in time with his hands, almost as though he was subconsciously reaching for more of Strife's touch even as he brought them both closer to orgasm.

It got harder for Strife to concentrate on Cupid's wings as the hand on his cock grew rougher and rougher, and before he knew it Strife was thrusting up hard into Cupid's grip, his hands tightening on Cupid's wings as he came in the other god's hand. He wasn't sure if it was the grip he had on Cupid's wings or the clenching of his muscles around Cupid's cock, but a moment later Cupid thrust one last time and came inside him, murmuring something Strife couldn't quite make out as the other god collapsed against his chest.

They lay there like that until Strife lost track of where he ended and Cupid began, but just when he was starting to doze off Cupid shifted and slipped out of him. Strife told himself this was inevitable and braced himself for business as usual, so it took him completely by surprise when Cupid brushed warm lips against his cheek and settled down on the mattress next to him. Affection was the last thing he'd ever expected from Cupid or any other god, really, so it took him a few seconds before he could trust himself to speak.

"Uh...Cupe?"

A muffled grunt let him know that Cupid was at least conscious, if not exactly coherent.

"Maybe this isn't the best time to bring this up, but seriously, what about Psyche? I mean if she is...you know...cheating on you...what are you gonna do?"

"I know she is, I just need to prove it," Cupid answered, one hand lazily stroking Strife's chest as he mumbled into the pillow. "Then I can dissolve the marriage and I don't have to worry about losing Bliss. After that she can do whatever she wants."

Strife frowned down at the blur of blond hair taking up most of his pillow; granted, he and Cupid had never been exactly what he'd call close, but he knew enough about Cupid and Psyche to know how jealous Cupid could get. He'd definitely never expected to hear Cupid say he didn't care what Psyche did, especially if she was screwing somebody on Olympus. "I thought you were head over heels for her. You know, most beautiful mortal in the world, even your mom was jealous? What happened to all that?"

Cupid's shoulder lifted in a reasonable facsimile of a shrug, and he finally opened his eyes long enough to meet Strife's confused gaze. "To tell you the truth, she's not really my type. If I hadn't gotten the arrows mixed up that day and then let one of them get away from me...well, let's just say it wasn't one of my finer moments."

And okay, Cupid looked really, _really_ good when he blushed. "So you're saying this whole thing with you and Psyche...it was all an accident?"

"Pretty much," Cupid answered. "I mean I like her and all, and maybe if she hadn't started sleeping around we could have made it work. But the magic had to wear off eventually, and I guess I wasn't giving her what she needed. It's better this way, trust me."

Cupid closed his eyes again and Strife assumed that meant the subject was closed. For a few long moments he stared blankly up at the ceiling, running the other god's words over in his head in the hope of making some sense of them. No matter how hard he tried to focus his mind kept coming back to one thing, though, and finally he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Cupe?" This time a barely coherent 'nggh' was his only response, but he took it as a sign that Cupid was at least mostly conscious. "What is your type?"

When he heard Cupid chuckle he was glad the other god's eyes were still closed, because the last thing he needed was for Cupid to see his full-body blush. The hand that was resting on his chest began moving again, but to his relief Cupid didn't open his eyes.

"Dark hair, pale, kinda skinny, a little unpredictable." Then Cupid did open his eyes, but Strife was too busy being shocked to worry about the blush. The other god pushed himself up on one elbow long enough to lean over, pressing their lips together for a long, leisurely kiss before he pulled back again. "Get some sleep, Strife. I've got plans for you later."

Strife grinned in spite of himself as Cupid settled back onto the pillow and closed his eyes again. For the first time since Cupid showed up in his bedroom Strife was actually looking forward to doing a favor for the other god, and if he was lucky maybe some of Cupid's plans wouldn't involve Psyche at all.


End file.
